


Eight Maids a-Milking

by MatildaSwan



Series: this family of ours, we wouldn't change it for the world [3]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Barnyard Animals, F/F, F/M, Family Fluff, Festive Cheer ft. Christmas Surprises, Future Fic, Multi, Sexual References, TMI overshares, and a joyous queer time was had by all, barns are good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 02:44:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13090746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/pseuds/MatildaSwan
Summary: Just how many surprises can one family Christmas bring?aka A Campbell-Wolfe-Dunn Family Christmas: A Saga in Three Acts





	Eight Maids a-Milking

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to Jess for being a beautiful, paitent beta and putting up w me while I poked this fic to gradual completion. 
> 
> My second and final contribution to the 12 Days of Christmas, it's been a blast gals, thanks for having me! For the rest of y'all: Enjoy the good festive frivolity! 
> 
> CW: references to religiously influenced homophobic rhetoric uttered in response to an offscreen Festive season coming out. Also sexual references and references of a sexually explicit nature. This family is Known for its TMI overshares. Also, some swearing.

‘I can’t believe you talked me into this,’ Serena grumbles as she stares at the pair of cows before her. ‘And you!’ she rounds on Charlotte. ‘Inviting us up the night before for ‘family bonding’ was all just a ruse, wasn’t it?!’

Lottie shrugs, grinning wide. ‘What can I say, every little bit helps. Christmas Day isn’t going to prepare itself.’

Serena huffs, burying her chin further into her scarf, wrapping her arms around her middle and the many layers of wool she’s currently wearing. She looks over to the crack between the barn doors and the flicker of morning sun breaking through the cloud cover; it might be warmer inside the barn, barely, but outside has a sunrise. In here just has cows.

‘How many of these _beasts_ do you actually have?’

‘You only have to worry about these guys,’ Charlotte says, gently smacking one of their hides, bracing herself as she leans down to setup a stool by her back half. ‘There’s the makings of a herd though, I’m hoping they’ll keep the grass in check when it heats up again. Plus the goat.’

‘You’ve got a goat,’ Serena asks softly, wistfully, her face softening as her shoulders drop. She sees Bernie turn towards her from the corner of her eye, face shining with affection, and ducks her head, blushing.

Charlotte hums out a laugh. ‘Yep, one of the girls in Polly’s class gave her to us before she moved away. You can meet her later,’ she promises, patting at the cow again; she moos. ‘Now, you’ve got milking to do.’ She beckons them both closer. ‘Here, watch.’ Charlotte sits down and reaches forward, explaining as she demonstrates.

Serena rubs her hands together against the cold. The cow chews on a cud, blinking lazily as she looks around the barn.

‘Got it?’ Charlotte asks, looking up expectantly. The pull and squeeze seems simple enough and Serena nods, eyeing the cow warily. ‘Right then, Mum, here you go.’ Lottie jerks her head to beckon Bernie forward and heaves herself off the stool.

Bernie sits, frowning as Charlotte’s hands rest on her shoulders for a moment, gingerly reaching out to grab the udder and mimicking her daughter’s instructions. After a few unsuccessful pulls, milk squirts into the metal bucket. Bernie smiles, small and proud, and turns her face towards Charlotte.

Charlotte snorts, eyes crinkling fondly, and leaves her to it. She steps back and pats the already waiting stool just beside, looking Serena dead in the eye.

Serena hesitates, looking past Bernie towards her hands. ‘Scale of one to ten?’

‘Ah,’ Bernie hums, thinking, tugging rhythmically. ‘Five?’

Serena nods, breathes deeply, braces herself; strides forward, sits herself down, closes her eyes and blindly reaches out.

Her fingertips touch furry warm flesh; the cow moos.

She opens her eyes. ‘Oh, I hate it already.’

Lottie laughs, a thick scoff. ‘You haven’t even started!’

‘I don’t care,’ Serena replies indignantly. Bernie leans back to bump against Serena, a comforting nudge, and Serena grits her teeth and starts tugging; the sound of liquid drumming against a metal bucket somehow soothing and disturbing in equal measure.

‘You’re surgeons, for heaven sake! I don’t see how this is worse than being elbow deep in organs or covered in sick, and I _know_ you do that most days.’

‘We don’t _eat_ any of that,’ Serena replies indigently, seeing the frothing white liquid in the bucket between her legs in a whole new light.

‘To be fair, you do threaten to eat the F1’s livers quite a lot,’ Bernie pipes up, teasing and decidedly unhelpful.

‘I do not!’ Serena scowls, before muttering, ‘Not out loud, at any rate.’

‘Exactly,’ Bernie huffs out, smug and self-satisfied. ‘You forget how often I’ve seen you angry, Serena Campbell. I can always tell what you’re thinking mid-shout.’

Serena sniffs; Bernie is entirely too asute for her own good sometimes. ‘Oh, hush you.’

Bernie stops milking, turns to look over her shoulder and right at Serena. ‘I didn’t say I minded.’

The heat in her gaze warms Serena’s cheeks red and rosy as she remember their last, and rather spectacular row: they’d snapped at each other till they were blue in the face before working out their frustration in a far more productive manner. It had take three days for her thighs to recover.

‘God, do you two _ever_ stop?’ Charlotte sighs out, exasperated and they both have the decency to blush. ‘I’ll come back once I’ve fed the birds,’ she says, waving a hand goodbye as she strides out of the barn. She heaves the door wider muttering, ‘Flirting while milking a damn cow, what even are you two?’

They wait till the back of Charlotte is well out of sight before turning to each other. They blink, chagrined, cheeks still burning bright.

‘Well, that’s us told,’ Serena remarks dryly. Bernie barks out a laugh and they dissolve into a fit of giggles that leaves them red-faced and teary-eyed, before they struggle to get their breath back.

They get back to work, sitting silently as the barn fills with grunts and moos and the echo of milk on metal until their buckets are adequately filled.

Bernie hefts the pails while Serena pushes the barn doors all the way open; she stands back as the untied cows wander past and out into the paddock. The herd moos loudly as they rejoin.

She sees one flick up its tail and turns away with a grimace. Walks back over to Bernie looking decidedly glum.

‘Oh come on,’ Bernie chides gently, leaving the buckets on the bench to meet Serena near the centre of the barn. ‘It wasn’t _that_ bad, surly?’

Serena sighs heavily. ‘No, you’re right it wasn’t,’ she relents, offering Bernie a tight smile, before pointing at Bernie with determination in her eye. ‘I still reserve the right to be grumpy about it for the indefinite future.’

‘Fair,’ Bernie replies with a solemn nod, before leaning against the nearby support beam. She looks Serena up and down, smirking slightly.

‘You know,’ she starts, slouching all the more as the warmth in her eyes grows. ‘I think you look quite fetching as a milkmaid.’ She pushes off the pole and steps close, reaching up to play with Serena’s quiff. ‘Matches your hair well.’

Serena glares at her, ducking away from Bernie’s hand. She doesn’t step away. ‘Keep talking like that and you’ll be on the sofa for a month.’

Bernie steps back again, bracing herself against the pole to clutch at her chest, feigning outrage. ‘You wouldn’t dare!’

‘Try me,’ Serena challenges, nothing but steel in her voice and delight in her eyes.

Bernie’s smirk splits into a wide grin and she reaches out, tugging a compliant, smiling Serena towards her as she falls back against the pole. She lets out a soft ‘oof’ against Serena’s lips, sliding a hand up her spine and winding the other through the silvery locks at the nape of her neck; feels Serena smile into the kiss, and pulls her even closer.

*

The rest of the morning passes in a rush of Polly’s lovingly given but stern orders, poorly warbled Christmas carols—an inability to sing on key runs in the family—and Bernie’s futile but appreciated attempts at hiding in the living room to avoid getting under everyone’s feet.

A respite comes midmorning, when one of Serena’s artfully hung sprigs of mistletoe—which she expected to result in cheek kisses or some light snogging against a doorway—instead ends up with Charlotte vaulting across an armchair to run to the other end of the house while Polly waddles behind her hefting a spatula and yelling ‘Mistlefoe!’ at the top of her lungs.

Serena and Bernie blink at the spectacle, confused and delighted, before bursting into laughter as Charlotte barricades herself in the safety of her bedroom.

‘Yeah, that’s what I thought,’ Polly yells smugly, slapping the utensil in her hand lightly against the wood. They mightn’t be blood kin, but she and Serena share the same flare for dramatics; some of which, it would seem, has rubbed off on Charlotte, who waits until Polly has turned away to start walking back down the hall before she wrenches open the door and yanks Polly inside. Surprised shouts, the unmistakable thud of a body being pressed against a door, then soft giggling travel up the hallway.

The other two baulk.

‘Do you think they’d...?’

‘No,’ Bernie replies, doubting her own certainty. ‘The goose isn’t in the oven yet.’

They turn back to the still empty hall, pause a moment, before rushing away: Serena turns up the stereo as Bernie busies herself sorting the presents under the tree. They decide to add another round of tinsel to the room, and Serena relocates the sprig to where it can do the least damage. She uses the opportunity to steal a kiss from Bernie too, before suggesting they snuggle in front of the fire.

Charlotte and Polly eventually reemerge, kiss-bruised and grinning sheepishly, to find the goose sitting happily in the oven, the bench covered in trays of cut vegetables, and Bernie and Serena necking on the couch.

‘Alright, break it up you two!’ Charlotte’s mirth-filled voice makes them spring apart. Bernie almost falls to the floor, flat on her arse; it’s only Serena’s arms wrapped firmly around her waist that keep her steady.

Bernie huffs upwards, blowing her fringe out of her eyes. ‘You started it!’

Charlotte sniffs; Polly plonks herself down beside them, shuffling back into in the corner furthest from the fire and picking up a book, laying open face-down, from the coffee table. She puts her feet up on the table and starts reading.

‘Oh, by all means, continue,’ she mumbles, tilting her chin towards them but not bothering to actually look. ‘I just wanted my couch.’

‘Oh, right, well then.’ Serena shrugs and lifts her chin with a smirk.

‘Not a chance, you two!’ Charlotte yelps. ‘Come help me set the table. Bernie: cutlery. Serena, you know which glasses go with what, right?’

Serena nods, ushering a reluctant Bernie off her lap, and makes a beeline towards the glassware cabinet in the kitchen.

‘So who’s coming again?’ Serena calls over her shoulder while Bernie and Charlotte slowly dance around the table.

‘Us, Dad and Alice.’ She slots half a dozen wine glasses between her fingers, grabbing a cooler with her other hand. ‘And Cam and the new girlfriend.’

Serena hums, curiosity piqued, as she flips the glasses standing; Bernie freezes mid-fork placing. ‘He’s bringing her to lunch? I didn’t realise they were so serious.’

She puts the fork on the table, quickly moving along the table; Serena goes to get more glasses.

‘Neither did I,’ Charlotte replies. ‘Till I offered to set him up with someone a few weeks ago and he said he was off the market. He hasn’t been exclusive in years,’ Charlotte adds, a bit bewildered. ‘But it must be love if he’s throwing her in front of the whole family at once. Especially after last time.’

A collective shiver ripples through the group, as they remember Cam’s last, disastrous, attempt at introducing a girlfriend to the family. They’re all thankful they’ve been spared the repeat of that horror in the years since.

‘So what’s she like?’ Serena asks, fingers pinching a stem to realign a glass. ‘I haven't heard much about her. Actually,’ she hums thoughtfully, ‘I haven’t heard _anything_ about her, except that she exists.’

‘Which I consider debatable until I’ve seen her with my own two eyes,’ Charlotte says, finger raised in accent. She drops her hand and shrugs. ‘Honestly, that’s about all there is to it. He’s been proper cagey about her—I was calling her Sabine for _weeks_ before he through to correct me—I thought he maybe he was a piece on the side and trying to keep it on the lowdown, but now I’m pretty sure he’s just too smitten to act like a proper person.’

‘Someone’s here!’ Polly’s calls from the living room, craning her neck over the back of the couch to look out the front facing window.

‘Speaking of.’ Charlotte rushes over beside her, leaning against the upholstery to watch a car roll up the drive. She whistles. ‘Cam’s got himself a sugar momma!’

Polly slaps lightly at Charlotte’s shoulder and growls out a warning.

‘Oh, come on! Look at that car, she’s obviously rich.’

‘And I’m sure she’s lovely as well.’

‘Course she is,’ Lottie agrees brightly. ‘And rich.’

Polly glares. ‘Whoever she is, she’s here, and our guest. So let’s go meet her and _then_ make up our minds.’

‘Fine,’ Charlotte agrees, looking appropriate crestfallen despite the lazy eyeroll. She offers out a hand to help Polly up before rushing outside, past Serena and Bernie looping scarves around their necks, pulling on a coat as she rushed outside to greet her brother.

Bernie follows quickly behind while Serena loops a scarf around Polly’s neck before walking out together. They run right into the back of Bernie, frozen solid in the light snow, standing ramrod straight as her two children embrace each other.

‘Bernie?’ Serena huffs out, walking around her as Polly outflanks both of them lean against the pathway fence; she follows Bernie’s line of sight, not to Cam and Charlotte, now walking towards them, but rather the car behind them. Her eyes go wide as she sees a familiar face emerge over the roof of the car, a pair of designer sunglasses pushing back a mane of blonde hair. ‘You’re _fucking_ kidding me.’

‘Sorry we’re a bit early,’ the blonde apologises as she passes in front of the bonnet, her eyes on her heels crunching over gravel. She settles on the path and looks up. ‘Worried we’d get lo–st... _Serena_? Bernie!’

They both blink back.

‘Hi, Sian,’ Serena breathes out, her cheeks burning red as stray pieces of the past months jigsaw themselves together. Her mind runs through the substantial list of things Sian has said about her latest beau: the eager to please young man who’d started out as a casual fling before Sian had found herself, quite unexpectedly, falling hard enough to lose eyes for anyone else. A young man who was, apparently, her stepson.

Her mind leaps to all the details of Sian’s most recent and oddly romantic sexual saga she’d then passed on to Bernie, and feels a little faint.

‘You two know each other?’ Cam asks, frowning at the both of them.

‘Yes, actually. Rena and I are old friends.’

Cam’s eyes widen. ‘ _This_ is your Rena?’

‘Ah—yep,’ Sian says, nodding slowly, an entire misspent youth and any number of ill advised but delightful escapades that followed flashing before her eyes; Serena reaches out for Bernie to hold herself up.

‘Sian and I were at school together,’ Serena explains to rest of the curious and slightly uncomfortable circle. She tries for light, it comes out a little strangled.

Awkward silence settles along with a few errant snowflakes.

‘So Polly’s pregnant and we’re having a baby in the spring.’ Charlotte blurts out. A duck quacks. ‘Need a hand unpacking the car?’

Charlotte looks at them all expectantly, and Polly groans, low and long, rolling her eyes as her hands fall to her stomach. ‘God, I can’t take you anywhere, can I? Not even your own home...’

She looks up to grin ruefully at the group and the tension breaks.

‘Yeah, come on,’ Cam beckon, slinging an arm across Charlotte’s shoulder as they crunch over to the boot of the car.

Bernie remembers how to breathe again, inhaling sharply as her knees wobble slightly; Polly slips an arm around her elbow to tug her inside. ‘Come on, I’ve got whisky that’s overdue to be drunk with your name on it.’

Bernie follows along gratefully as Sian slinks towards Serena.

‘I don’t believe this,’ Serena sighs out, shaking her head as they slowly trudge up the path. ‘I mean, I knew you were seeing _a_ Cameron, but I never _dreamt—’_

‘Well, I guess it’s just what you get for bloody eloping,’ Sian snaps back petulently. ‘Could have introduced us at a wedding, instead of scurrying off for a romantic anniversary weekend away and coming back _married_.’

‘So this is _my_ fault?’ Serena hisses as she follows Sian through the back door.

‘It’s nobody's _fault…_ it’s just something that happened.’ Sian stops in the alcove of the hall, leaning against the wall. ‘Maybe if I’d known it wouldn’t have...but I’m glad it did, even if this—’ She waves a hand between her and Serena and then flapping towards everyone else. ‘—is a bit of a shock.’

Serena softens, leaning back against the other wall, thinking back to just how happy her quick-witted, boisterous, flighty and often sulky friend has been over the past few months, how enamoured she’d become with, it turns out, Serena’s clever, inconsistent, overeager and oddly determined stepson.

Lottie and Cam slip past them. She sees Cam catch Sian’s eye, sees his smile, and hers, before he shuffles over to the Christmas tree in the living room. She sees Sian watch the back of him for a few moments before catching herself.

Serena can’t help smiling. ‘It’s a bit of a surprise, there’s no denying that. But you two work, in a strange sort of way. I’m still happy for you,’ she reassures, reaching out to rest her hand on her friend’s elbow. Sian sighs out heavily, eyes bright with relief. Another thought flashes; her grip tightens. ‘Wait, was he the one with the lemon curd?’

Sian flushes, grimacing. ‘Ah, yeah. That was him.’

‘Fuck sake Sian!’ Serena hisses, flailing her hands in the air. ‘I do not need to know that about my stepson’s cock!’

The living room turns towards their barely concealed shouts.

‘You’re no better!’ Sian spits back, feathers ruffled. ‘It’s not like I need to hear about how good the vagina that birthed my boyfriend tastes!’

Bernie sinks down onto the arm of the couch.

‘Je _su_ s ChriST!’ Lottie yells, dropping the present in her hand onto the pile under the tree as she fights the urge to cover her own ears. ‘Literally none of us need to know that!’

Cam looks mortified. Bernie buries her face in her hands. Polly just blinks owlishly.

‘How does this happen _every time?’_  Bernie moans into her hands before rubbing at her face and pushing her fringe out of her eyes. She stares helplessly into the room, which promptly dissolves into laughter.

‘Oh, okay,’ Serena breaths out after several minutes, holding herself up on the back of the armchair, wiping tears from her cheeks. She smiles at Sian still beside her. ‘We are _never_ sharing details about our sex lives. Ever again.’

‘Deal’ Sian agrees with a definitive nod, before pausing. She smirks slowly. ‘Unless it’s something truly spectacular.’

‘Sian!’ Serena chides, shaking her head fondly and slapping her shoulder. She leans close and whispers conspiratorially, ‘Though it is interesting to know certain skills run in the family.’

‘Wouldn’t you lot like to know,’ Polly hums from her spot on the couch, staring down at her book again. Serena and Sian twist to stare at her, gobsmacked and giggling, while the rest of the room burns beet-red again.

Any further comment it stemmed by the blare of Charlotte’s phone. She checks the id and smiles bright. ‘Hey Dad!’

Bernie shuffles off the couch arm and crosses the room, passing Sian on her way over to Cam and the Christmas tree, as Serena sinks into her arm chair.  

‘Well, at least we know Marcus isn’t going to spring anything else on us,’ Bernie points out, perched on the chair arm and smiling down at Serena. ‘I think there’s been more than enough surprises for one Christmas, don’t you think?’

‘Agreed,’ Serena hums, flopping deeping into the comfy chair.

‘Yeah course we can find more space! Who’s it for?’ Charlotte pauses, phone gripped in her hand. ‘ _Boyfriend_?’

Bernie blinks. ‘Never mind, spoke too soon.’

*

They’re all playing go fish on the coffee table, fire crackling happily as the goose sits warm and already roasted in the oven, when the next car crunches up the driveway.

Charlotte adds a pair of twos to her pile and puts the rest of her hand down. ‘Show time.’

They trickle outside in pairs, all happy and excited but nervous to greet their last lot of guests, an undercurrent of jitters shared between them all.

The car comes to a stop and the all smile bright, None of them are sure what to do with their hands. A snowflake falls onto Bernie’s nose. Three car doors slam shut.

Marcus takes the lead, walking straight up to Charlotte and Cam, shuffling a little awkwardly beside each on the edge of the gravel. Alice starts to follow behind, before looking over her shoulder to see the last of their number taking his time to wander around the car. She hangs back, ushering him faster, while Marcus hugs Charlotte and Cam thoroughly before nodding hello to everyone else, barely holding eye contact, clearly more nervous than the rest of them combined.

They all wave back and stare expectantly.

‘Right, so.’ Marcus rubs at the back of his neck before squaring his shoulders. ‘You’ve all met Alice.’ She walks over, smiling bright, bringing the other man with her.

‘Hi!’ she says enthusiastically, her eyes darting around the group before falling to Polly’s stomach: the knitted Christmas pudding is especially stretched as she leans against the fencepost. Alice’s smile spreads but she stays silent.

‘And this—’ Marcus takes the other man’s hand and pulls him forward. ‘—is Richard, my— _our,_ boyfriend.’

‘Nice to meet you all.’ Richard squeezes Marcus’s hand too tight, clearly preparing for the worst. ‘Thanks for having me.’

‘You’re very welcome,’ Polly replies warmly, pushing off from the fence. ‘It’s nice to meet you too.’

The group choruses a series of hums and head nods.

‘Even if we’ve heard exactly nothing about you.’ Charlotte snarks, glaring at her dad with a tiny smile.

‘Sorry,’ Marcus deflates, squeezing Richard’s hand lightly before letting go. He shuffles awkwardly on the arches of his feet. ‘We were going to do it properly after New Year—’

‘Oh, so _that’s_ why you were so keen for us to visit,’ Charlotte interjects.

Marcus nods. ‘But, ah, this morning didn’t exactly go to plan, so it bumped up our plans.’

They all frown, but refuse to ask. Alice answers them anyway.

‘Richard’s parents accused Marcus of using his ‘magic genitals; to seduce their son and I was a witch in league with the Devil for letting him.’ She flicks her fingers, a pointed talon glitters green and silver. ‘Apparently we’re all going to Hell for sodomy.’

Bernie blinks. Charlotte sneers.

‘Yikes,’ Polly breaths out, Cam nods.

‘Well they clearly weren’t feeling the Christmas Spirit at all,’ Serena says dryly.

‘I know!’ Alice exclaims, sneering disbelief. ‘I don’t even like anal.’

‘God, no!’ Bernie pleads, just shy of desperate, as a cacophony of snorts and groans resound from the three couples. ‘We are _not_ doing this again!’

The other three share a confused look before shrugging as the rest of the group stops laughing.

‘Anyway, we’re a throuple,’ Marcus clarifies after the last snicker has died down. ‘It means—’

‘We know what a throuple is, Dad,’ Cam cuts him off.

‘Yeah, what is this, the 90’s?’ Charlotte snorts at her own joke, before shivering as another sprinkle of snow starts. ‘Can we go inside, I’m freezing my tits off here. Got anything for under the tree?’

Alice is quick to keep up with Charlotte’s rushes. ‘Heaps, but nothing for your bun here.’ Alice point towards Polly, curiosity finally getting the better of her. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

‘Well it was _supposed_ to be the big Christmas Lunch surprise,’ Polly says with a chuckle. ‘Turns out ‘tis the season for everyone.’

Cam grins and slips away to stand closer to Sian while Marcus snaps his head toward Charlotte to find her beaming bright, and pulls her into a tight bear-hug. ‘Congratulation, honey.’

‘Thanks, Dad,’ she mumbles against his shoulder. ‘I am actually freezing, though, can we move this inside.’

Marcus pulls away with a throaty laugh. ‘Course! I’ll meet you all in there,’ he says, nodding to Alice before turning back to the car. Serena and Sian hurry inside, debating over what wine to start the afternoon with, Cam trailing them with Polly and Alice waddling just behind.

‘Come on, you can help set out the Christmas Crackers,’ Charlotte says, slapping a palm against Richard’s back and pushing him up the path. ‘You haven’t got any allergies, have you?’

Bernie grins at her daughter’s antics as she wander down the path and over to the open boot of the car.

‘What a day,’ Marcus says when she stops beside him. ‘Grandparents?’

‘Tell me about it,’ Bernie huffs with a smile. ‘Need a hand?’ She ends up with an precariously balances armful of brightly wrapped presents to trude up to the house. ‘You dropped some pretty big news today,’ she prods they thump up the back steps. Marcus hums but doesn’t reply, too busy concentrating on not dropping anything until they get to the tree. First Alice and then Richard both wink as they walk past, and Bernie looks over her shoulder to see Marcus blushing. She can’t resisting ribbing him. ‘I can’t believe you divorced me for having one girlfriend and you go and get yourself one _and_ a boyfriend,’ she quips as she scatters the gifts on top of the pile.

Marcus snorts, before sombering. ‘Everyone’s taking the news remarkably well,’ he hums thoughtfully. ‘I mean, I knew it would be fine in the end, but this wasn’t what we planned. I didn’t think it would go _well._ ’

Bernie smiles sadly, heart twisting for the fact that even to a family like theirs, coming out always involves expecting the worst. She can’t blame him, with the morning they seem to have had, and tries at some Christmas cheer.

‘Don’t worry, we had all the surprise shocked out of us long before you arrived,’ she says lightly, throwing Marcus a sidelong glance to find him frowning. ‘Turns out I know all of Cameron’s girlfriends before he does.’

He looks over to Sian and Serena, gossiping as Serena finally pours the red she set to breathe earlier while they wait for Cam and Charlotte to finish the last touches before lunch. She plays out sniffing the bouquet and Sian giggles, rocking forward on her toes as she laughs. Serena stumbles slightly, arm shooting out to gently brace against Sian’s shoulder; their foreheads almost bump before they settle back on her feet, rosy cheeked and smiling. It’s clear they’ve known each other, very well, for rather a long time. ‘Do I want to know?’

‘No,’ Bernie replies, elongating the vowel as she shakes her head. She looks over to Richard, now on the couch with Alice and fawning over Polly, and turns back to lightly pry, ‘He seems nice.’

‘He is.’ Marcus grins sheepishly, smiling at his partners. ‘They both are, it’s—it was surprising, at first, but it’s good. We’re good.’ Bernie smiles kindly at him, sees his face shift from content to serious as he turns back towards Bernie. ‘I’m sorry, Bern, for before.’ She frowns. ‘You and Alex. When I heard about it, I—’

‘We’ve talked about this,’ she cuts him off. She doesn’t fancy rehashing old ground they’ve long since put to rest, especially not on Christmas Day.

‘I know, but even after the dust had settled...when we started talking again, I still didn’t really understand. I do now, or near enough, anyway. I’m sorry I wasn’t kinder.’

Bernie smiles, warm and tight. She’s glad they figured out how to be friends again. They were always good mates, it’s why she thought she might love him in the first place; she knows herself better now, and she’s happy to have something of their early friendship. ‘I’m just glad you stopped being a prick.’

Marcus chuckles, raising his hand in mock surrender.

‘I told you the cure for being a dick was to get some from one,’ Alice pipes up from across the room, eyeing the two them and smirking. Marcus huffs, Bernie guffaws; she might have known Alice was eavesdropping.

‘Good thing I came pre-prepared,’ Richard adds dryly, grinning wide. ‘Honestly, I don’t know what my parents expected, calling me ‘Dick’ all those years.’ He shakes his head in disbelief and the room snickers softly.

Charlotte passes by with the last stack of plates in her hands. ‘Lunch is ready!’

The room slowly trails into the dining room behind her, shuffling to circle around the table in their respective groups.

Serena ignores the movement and makes a beeline towards Bernie instead, wine glass in each hand and smiling bright.

‘How you holding up, everything alright?’ She offers one out to Bernie; their fingers brush against the stem.

‘Yeah, good.’ She nods happily, leaning over to press a kiss to Serena’s cheek. She pulls away, spots the mistletoe on the tree near their heads, and dips her head to kiss her properly, soft and sweet. Her eyes flutter open to find Serena smiling at her, her eyes sparkling. 'Perfect.’

They turn and walk into the dining room side by side, bumping shoulders all the way to sit in the last two empty seat, beside Polly at the head and Sian halfway down the long edge.

'Finally! I'm famished,' Cam eyes the food in front of him, already salivating, before looking up the table. 'Well hurry up.'

Bernie blinks when she realises she’s ended up in front of the goose and everyone else looking at her expectantly. ‘Is this a joke?’

‘Absolutely,’ Polly quips, pushing the handle of the carving knife into Bernie’s hand. ‘Go on, I insist,’ she cuts Bernie’s protests off. ‘You earned it, after yesterday.’

‘What happened?’ Cam perks up from the other end of the table, already buttering a piece of bread.

Charlotte glares at him and he drops it back on to his plate. ‘She vaulted over a fence to get away from a flock of angry geese.’

A peel of laughter ripples around the table.

‘Here I was thinking you liked it when birds chased you.’

She stretches her leg out diagonally to kick Marcus under the table.

‘Ow!’ Richard yelps beside him. ‘Calm your farm, lady, you got the wrong leg.’

‘Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!’ Bernie looks horrified.

‘He’s kidding, you definitely got me,’ Marcus groans out, reaching under the table to rub his shin. Bernie glares; Richard smirks. A leg lashes out again and this time his cry is in earnest.

‘Play nice,’ Alice warns, a teasing lint, from the other end of the table. Richard pouts, sulking, til she leans over to whisper in his ear, patting the back of his hand. Bernie busies herself carving the goose and feels Serena eyes on hers, knows she’s smiling at her as she sips her wine, while Charlotte and Polly sit in front of her, whispering over who ought to give a toast.

They’ve yet to decide when she sits back down.

She picks up her wine and downs a mouthful, savouring the tang as she looks out over her mismatched family: Serena sitting warm and happy by her side, so close their elbows brush as she puts her glass back down, and her daughter right in front of her, her son’s laughter echoing up the table, while the room fills with the delight and cheer of all the other people they love best.

She feels Serena’s hand squeeze her knee and realises she’s grinning wide, face split in two. Turns to her wife, beaming euphoric and light while surrounded by so many people she loves, with nowhere else in the world she’d rather be, and raises her glass.


End file.
